


Read the Fine Print

by All_the_damned_vampires



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Abuse, Domestic Discipline, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, Horror, Humiliation, M/M, Mad Scientists, Medical Procedures, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Spanking, debt slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-07
Updated: 2016-10-07
Packaged: 2018-08-19 19:41:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8222570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/All_the_damned_vampires/pseuds/All_the_damned_vampires
Summary: Jeff's pretty new admin is a lot more competent that the usual.  It's too bad that Jeff isn't interested in his typing.Art by the wonderful emmatheslayer.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Tremendous thanks to dollylux for the beta.
> 
> You can find the art for this piece here: http://emmatheslayer.livejournal.com/393602.html

 

Thursday morning at 10 a.m. sharp, as was his habit, Jensen came by J.D. Morgan and Associates and saw that Jeff had a new administrative assistant. 

Jensen did a small stutter-step of surprise, gym bag banging painfully into his leg and the stranger manning the desk outside of Jeff’s large office lifted his shaggy head and gifted Jensen with a sweet, tentative smile.

It wasn’t the newness of the admin that had swung Jensen off balance.  Jeff ran through assistants like toilet paper, and tended to treat them just as dismissively.

 Even now Jensen couldn’t remember a single name, not over the five year friendship he had shared with Jeff. 

Nor was it the attractiveness of the man himself—Jeff liked his assistants young and pretty and he was fairly gifted at hiring what he liked, harassment laws be damned.  They were usually big in the chest and the hair, glossy, empty eyes and tight, tight clothes.

Instead, it was the earnestness of the young man—a lightness to him, a sunshine-y glow—contrasted with the unkempt mop of chestnut hair and the painfully ill-fitting suit.  He wasn’t slicked up with a glossy veneer, like so many of Jeff’s pretties.

There was also fear in his eyes, under the protective glaze of professionalism.

"Can I help you?" the man asked, voice honey-sweet and low and Jensen blinked, realizing he was staring.  He shouldered his gym bag and stepped forward, immaculate in his tennis whites.  He watched Jeff’s assistant’s jewel-bright eyes flick over the obvious clothes and then flick down to the appointment book open on the desk in front of him.  They flicked back up, shimmering a bit with moisture, and Jensen frowned as he saw the new assistant’s mouth tremble a bit before firming resolutely.

"I'm sorry, I don’t—"

"Jensen!" Jeff's voice boomed and Jensen pasted on his usual polite smile as Jeff strode out of his office, arm flung out to swing the door wide, every movement loud and designed to grab attention. Jensen felt more that saw Jeff's new admin shrink down a bit, shoulders hunched. "Right on time, as usual!"

"Hello, Jeff."

Jensen let himself be drawn into a bear hug, his shoulders squeezed painfully as Jeff pawed him with good-natured enthusiasm.  Sighing happily, Jeff drew back, his dark eyes immediately zeroing in on his recent prize; the assistant now frozen at his desk, as motionless as a mouse before a hawk.

"My newest acquisition!" Jeff boomed, gesturing to the young man sitting rigidly before them and Jensen frowned mildly.  Who the hell described an employee that way?

Then Jeff grabbed the younger man's thin wrist and lifted it up, the metal bracelet on it with the stamped serial number glinting under the baggy cuff of the assistant's frumpy, cheap suit and Jensen suddenly understood.

"From the Debt Center?" Jensen asked, raising an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Why not?' Jeff asked, grinning. "What do you think?"

"I thought that was all cheap, unskilled labor."

And it's not like Jensen hadn't contracted with the Debt Center before, but he always knew what he was getting.  A warm body basically, untrained and unskilled. Society's failures, unable to manage the most basic of life's financial requirements.  Nobody Jensen would rely on the type up his medical notes or assist in his laboratory.

"Not Jared here," Jeff said, clapping a hand down hard on his assistant's shoulder. "College boy.  Even knows how to type.  Smart, good memory.  It's only his second day but he already knows just how I like my coffee."

"Jeff, I swear to God, if you're putting cream in it again—"

"Skim," Jeff countered lightly, hand still possessively gripping his admin. "Doctor's orders."

"Damn right," Jensen said mildly.  He looked over at the young man—Jared—stiff and still and staring at the desk's shiny, wooden surface.  Jared kept his eyes averted, and Jensen noted at how the other man's brightness seemed to dim in Jeff's presence.

"Anyway, that he can actually do the job's not even the best part," Jeff said, voice rich with dark satisfaction.  He reached up and cupped a hand around the back of Jared's neck, long, tousled chestnut locks drifting across Jeff's knuckles. Jared flinched.

"Why didn't you use the intercom to announce that Dr. Ackles was here?" Jeff asked quietly.

Jared mumbled something.

"I'm sorry?" Jeff asked, voice dangerously soft.

"Wasn't in the calendar, sir," Jared muttered.

"Some of my appointments I put on my Google calendar," Jeff scolded playfully. "Some are written down.  You really need to merge all this information to one place."

"Jeff, none of your assistants have been able to manage your schedule worth a damn." Jensen interrupted.

"It's no excuse," Jeff said.

"Like you said, it's his second day."

"Come into my office," Jeff said, turning on his heel and striding back inside.  Wordlessly, Jared rose to his feet—Jensen blinked, Jesus, the man was taller than he appeared sitting down—and followed Jeff into the room. Curious, Jensen trailed after.

"Belt or hand?" Jeff asked mildly once he had settled on a leather couch and had Jared standing before him on the carpet like an overgrown schoolchild.  The younger man shifted uneasily, toe scuffing the carpet. His shoes were second-hand, the leather worn and stained.

"Jeff, what's this about?" Jensen asked impatiently. "Are we playing tennis or not?"

"In a minute," Jeff replied.  He smiled up at Jared. "Hand will hurt less."

Jared mumbled something.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you," Jeff said sweetly.

"Hand, sir," Jared said, face flushing.

"There we go," Jeff said and patted his knee. "It'll be over soon. Come on down here."

Mouth falling open slightly, Jensen stared as Jared blushed harder, then dropped his dress pants and underwear to his knees.  He clambered in an ungainly fashion across Jeff's lap, then clasped his hands at the small of his back and buried his face in the leather of the couch.

"Discipline," Jeff said cheerily to Jensen, as he flipped up the tails of Jared's dress shirt. "It's in his contract.  I'm allowed to use corporal punishment for corrective measures."

"You're going to spank him," Jensen said incredulously.

"Yes."

"It's in his _contract_?"

"I know, isn't it great?" Jeff said.  His large, swarthy hand was already stroking over the pale globes of Jared's ass, and Jensen shifted as he felt the crotch of his tennis shorts becoming inappropriately tight.

"I don’t see what that has to do with managing your appointments."

"Jared's a smart boy," Jeff said fondly. "A little correction and he doesn't have to be told a second time.  Besides, it's fun."

His hand came down with a crack on Jared's ass, making the other man jerk at the impact.  It didn't look particularly painful to Jensen, those measured smacks, and he found himself swallowing hard at the sight of Jared's tight ass shimmying with each slap.

Jeff stopped at ten strokes and honestly Jensen felt a little disappointed.

"Done," Jeff said and Jared immediately levered himself to his feet, hands fumbling to pull up his pants, face flaming. "Did you learn anything?"

"Merge all appointments into a single source, sir," Jared said promptly, face flushed red, eyes on the floor.

"Good boy," Jeff said.  Much like Jensen, he had a hard-on tenting his pants and Jensen shifted a bit in embarrassment.

"Can we go play tennis now?" Jensen asked. "Not to play the doctor card, but spanking your assistant does not count towards your thirty-five minutes of daily cardio."

"Okay, okay," Jeff said, standing up and stretching. "We can bring Jared.  He can chase some tennis balls."

"They have people at the club who can do that," Jensen said, voice sharp with exasperation. "Besides, how is he supposed to merge your calendars if he's gamboling across the court for the next hour?"

"Fine," Jeff said.  He clasped his hand on Jared's shoulder, making the younger man flinch again. "I'll send you an email with additional tasks, kiddo."

"Yes, sir."

"We need to work on your jumpiness," Jeff murmured, giving one last pat. "C'mon, Jensen, bring on the hour of torment."

"It's just tennis," Jensen said and as he swept past Jared out of the office, he almost missed the tiny whisper of "thanks" that issued from Jeff's assistant's sweet mouth.

**

"He's a big baby," Jeff said a week later, shaking salt over his steak aggressively.  Jensen sighed and plucked the shaker from Jeff's hand, watched the other man give an unrepentant wink.

"Your blood pressure—"

"Jared," Jeff replied, not willing to be shaken off his topic, and Jensen sat back patiently to listen.  Jeff's new indentured employee was all he wanted to talk about these days. "He's afraid of pain."

"Most people don't like pain," Jensen replied.  It's true.  And in his line of work he's seldom seen anyone sign on for physical discomfort.  Let alone Jeff's tall, shy boy, who shouldn't be finding anything painful about office work other than the occasional paper cut.

"Goes out of his way to avoid it, I swear," Jeff said with satisfaction. "You wouldn't believe what he'll do to avoid a spanking.  Why just last night I woke him up—"

"Woke him up?  He's living in your house?!"

"It's in his contract," Jeff replied easily, voice thick with satisfaction.  

And of course Jeff would want to keep his new assistant close.  Lord knows, Jensen had dropped by many a morning to find some dull-witted, fucked-out pretty lounging on Jeff's leather sectional.  Jeff liked convenience and decoration when it came to his trysts.  But most indentured debtors return to the Debt Center after work, for security reasons if nothing else.  Jensen closed his eyes for a moment and yes, he could see the appeal.  Jared, bruised-looking eyelids closed and gangly limbs limp, sprawled artlessly under a rumpled sheet.

"So I woke him up," Jeff continued and Jensen's eyes popped open. "Made up some bullshit mistake the kid had made, it's surprisingly easy, he's so earnest about his work, and told him he needed another spanking.  He actually got down on his knees and begged me not to." Jeff giggled.

"Jeff…"

"Had him give me a blowjob instead," Jeff continued. "The mouth on that kid, mm-hm."

It's probably useless for Jensen to say anything about the ethics involved in sexually exploiting your debt slave.  Certainly there are debtors who've been contracted as sex workers, as porn stars.  Name a job and you can probably find someone poor sap who'll contract for it, just to pay off their debt.

But Jared's arrangement was for office work only.

"It's almost cute how offended he was," Jeff said fondly.  He reached for the salt again, and Jensen fended him off with his fork. "Can't wait to tap that sweet, cherry ass."

"Jeff," Jensen said exasperatedly, "Don't you think you ought to leave the kid alone?  I mean, it's not like you're hard up.  Plenty of times you've dragged me out to a nightclub and they're practically been throwing themselves at you.  You don't need to pay for it."

"I already paid for it," Jeff replied, unoffended. "Kid was a bargain.  Besides, I like a challenge."

Jensen rolled his eyes and changed the conversation.  He gestured towards Jeff's plate. "Finish your vegetables."

"Yes, Doc," Jeff answered, laughing, and speared fat, red tomato, shoving it in his mouth.

**

A week later Jensen swung by Jeff's office for their tennis date and the sight of Jeff's assistant stopped him dead in his tracks.

The boy looked miserable.

There were dark circles under those shimmery, hazel eyes, and the boy's rumpled suit looked even more baggy on his frame.  He stopped his dogged typing and raised his head at Jensen's approach, trying to forced his lips up in a friendly, professional smile.

"Hello Dr. Ackles.  If you could wait just a moment, Mr. Morgan is just finishing up a meeting."

"Not a problem," Jensen replied and watched the boy's shoulders slump a bit in relief.  Jensen eyed Jeff's assistant as Jared shifted in his seat to gesture towards one of the chairs just outside Jeff's office, and then jerked up a little with a wince.  He settled back down, shifting his bottom on the office chair.

Jensen didn't move to take a seat. "Sore, huh?"

Jared flushed five different shades of red.

"It's okay," Jensen soothed, "I'm a doctor."

"I'm fine," Jared said, darting a glance towards the office. The door was closed, but Jensen could hear Jeff's big voice booming inside, despite all the steel and glass.

"You're afraid of him."

"I'm not a--" Jared's face tightened in mutinous defiance. Then he said stiffly, "I'm not what he thinks I am."

"No, you're not," Jensen said and Jared tilted his face, eyes bright with emotion. "He spank you this morning?"

"I wouldn't...yes. Yes, he did."

Jensen propped one hip up on the desk. "Corporal punishment isn't uncommon in a debt contract, but it's not required. I'm surprised you agreed to it in your contract."

"Didn't read the fine print," Jared answered ruefully. "My mom got sick and I had my student loans and it's just…" He flushed. "It seemed like a better offer. Pay my mom's debt off faster. I didn't realize..."

"You don't have to sleep with him," Jensen said and then let out a surprise chuckle when Jared rolled his eyes. The boy wasn't as mousy as he appeared.

"Mr. Morgan's not used to being told 'no'."

"It's just a shame," Jensen mused. "Your talents are being wasted here."

"Oh, yeah?" Jared said. "You gonna offer to buy off my contract?"

It was meant to be humorous, but the naked plea on Jared's face had Jensen shifting uncomfortably away.

"It wouldn't work out," Jensen said finally and Jared nodded, dropping the issue.

It wasn't exactly a lie. The type of warm body Jensen occasionally needs in his practice isn't like Jared at all.

**

When Jensen next stepped out of the elevator onto Jeff's floor, he nearly dropped his gym bag.

The shouts and whistles coming from the office space were suited more to a dog fight than a corporate setting.

Turning away from the hall that lead to Jeff's office, Jensen followed the sounds of shouting. Past rows of cubicles, the staff break room, and finally to a large glass-walled conference room, dominated by a large table and packed with people from every rung on the office hierarchy. Jensen blinked, taking in everyone from Jeff's head accountant Alaina to the squinty blond pothead who ran Jeff's mail room.

Jared was draped over the table, pants around his ankles, ass up and exposed. It was deep red, bruising purple in some areas. The boy's face was buried in one crooked arm.

As Jensen watched, Jeff's CFO Osric  stepped up, twirling a wooden paddle. Jensen recognized it from its usual place hanging on Jeff's office wall. His fraternity paddle.

"Batter up," Jeff called out and Jensen caught sight of the older man lounging against the wall, eyes on the view. His face was darkly satisfied.

Osric stepped forward and swung the paddle with all his strength. It went whistling though the air, coming down with a meaty crack of the flesh of Jared's ass. The boy grunted and the crowd cheered.

"Opened an attachment and infected the whole office email with a virus," Jeff offered as a reason for the mass abuse when Jensen made his way over.

"Really?"

"Okay, so I opened the attachment," Jeff said. His dark eyes were hot with frustration. "Maybe that'll teach that little shit to say 'no' to me."

"Still not putting out, huh?" Jensen asked, tone sympathetic.

"He will," Jeff replied. "He will."

"I'm sure," Jensen said and patted Jeff's shoulder. "Hey, I'll be waiting for you in your office. Try not to let the stress get to you."

"Yeah, yeah," Jeff said. "But you know, a little excitement is good for the blood, doc."

As Jensen walked by, he exchanged a nod with Chad. The mailroom worker had his phone out and was surreptitiously filming the action.

"Send me a copy," Jensen murmured and Chad grinned and shot him a thumbs up.

**

There were shattered picture frames and broken glass strewn around Jeff's office and the exterior waiting room. Standing next to the door holding a cardboard box full of his meager items, Jared gave Jensen a wary nod as Jeff's friend and doctor strolled in.

"Unfucking believable," Jeff fumed, heavily a glass trophy at the wall, and Jensen carefully poked his head around the door.

"Problem?" He inquired mildly.

"I can't fucking play tennis with you because I have to return this fucking little bitch to the store!"

"The Debt Center? What happened?"

"That asshole Chad in the mailroom filmed me disciplining Jared and leaked it on the Internet and the Debt Center saw it and now I'm apparently banned from owning a debtor! What the fuck! Apparently it's against the law to let _other_ people hit him!"

Jensen nodded soothingly. "Try to calm down, Jeff. Remember your blood pressure."

"Banned! And now I got to drive this little fucker across town in rush hour traffic because he's already been reassigned!"

He chucked a golfing trophy out the door in the general direction of his assistant. Jared side-stepped the projectile with ease.

Jensen reached out gently and clasped Jeff's heaving shoulder. The older man looked up at him, lower lip poking out, a child deprived of his favorite toy.

"He was mine," Jeff said forlornly.

"Listen, do you want me to drive him over? I don't mind."

Jeff's eyes filled with gratitude. "You'd do that?"

"If you promise to head over to the health club and do some yoga. You need to calm down."

"Thanks, doc."

Turning towards the door, Jensen gestured for Jared to follow. The boy stepped up to come along, but Jensen could see the hint of a tiny smile playing around Jared's mouth.

**

"Thank you," Jared said gratefully, seatbelted into Jensen's Prius.  He leaned his head against the leather headrest and sighed.

"Thank you for what?"

"I know what you did," Jared said.  With his head tilted back like that, Jensen could see the sheen of sweat glistening on Jared's throat.  He swallowed hard.

"I was trying to be discreet," Jensen muttered.

"Don't worry about Jeff," Jared said, "I don’t think he's suspects you were the one who reported his misconduct."

Clever boy, Jensen thought.  He said, "He's just not used to being told 'no'."

"Some people aren't.  Speaking of, you're not driving me to the Debt Center, are you?"

"I can," Jensen said hesitantly, trying to keep his voice level.  At a stoplight, he reached one-handed into the backseat and fished out a sheaf of papers from his bag.  He handed them over to Jared.

"A new contract?"

"Transfer of guardianship," Jensen said.  He gestured with one finger. "Sign and initial on the last page and you'll be working for me."

"What is it you do again? Doctor?"

"I have my medical license, but I haven't worked in a research facility in a long time.  I have a lab at home that lets me be more of a workaholic than I should be."

"What's your policy on corporal punishment?" Jared quipped, but his mouth was tight and grim.

"Jared," Jensen said kindly.  He put his hand over the other man's, felt Jared control his flinch.  Jared's hand was warm, the skin surprisingly rough over the knuckles.  Close-clipped nails.  "No one will ever hit you again."

Jared looked at him.  His eyes were swimming, the gold around his pupil shimmering, but he blinked rapidly and then recovered with a hiccupping cough.  Jensen let go of his hand and Jared reached into his shabby suit pocket, pulled out a ballpoint pen.  The end of the plastic was chewed slightly.

"Sounds good," he said and flipped to the last page, scrawling his signature across it, papers balanced on one knee.

**

"I was expecting fancier digs," Jared said, stepping out of the car. "Maybe something designed by Frank Lloyd Wright."

"I like quiet," Jensen replied, stretching his back to work out the kinks left from driving.  It's a pain in the ass to be this far from the city, but Jensen enjoys a little space between him and his neighbors.  The farm house is perfect.

"I didn't mean to criticize," Jared said quickly.

"I'm not going to send you back for having an opinion," Jensen replied.  He looked up into Jared's eyes. "I'm never going to send you back, Jared."

Again, that quick blinking, as Jared struggled to get his face back under control. Then, "Thanks, Doc."

"Jensen," Jensen corrected. "No problem."

Inside the house. Jared spun in a slow circle, taking in the contemporary style, the slightly feminine wallpaper, the godawful paisley couch.  He raised his eyebrow at his host.

Jensen laughed lightly. "I inherited the furniture from the previous owners.  I've done extensive remodeling down in the basement. That's the part of the house that's really 'me'.  The rest isn't important.  Sit down."

Jared sat with a sigh.  The couch was too small for him, Jensen thought, watching those sharp knees and broad shoulders for a minute.  Jared, a beautiful work of lines and angles.  Then Jensen went into the kitchen.

When Jensen pressed the glass into Jared's hand, the younger man frowned. "Hey, you don't have to take care of me."

"You're dehydrated," Jensen countered, eyes flicking to Jared's mouth.  Self-consciously, the younger man licked his lips. "Drink this."

"Thanks.  Uh, it's a bit bitter."

"Well water," Jensen said.  He sank down on the couch next to Jared. "Sorry. I keep meaning to buy some mineral water."

"It's fine," Jared said hastily and drank it all down.

"You don’t have to do anything to impress me, you know."

Hands shaking, Jared put the glass down on Jensen's oak coffee table.  Then he burst into tears.

"It's okay," Jensen said.  He reached out a hand and Jared launched himself into Jensen's arms, burying his face in Jensen's shirt.  His tears bled through the material, hot and wet.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

"It was so awful. God."

"It's over now," Jensen said. He petted a hand through the hair at the back of Jared's head, fingers tangling in all those gold-brown strands. "I'll never let you feel pain like that again."

"I'm sorry."

"Let it out," Jensen soothed and Jared did.

He cried for a few minutes, sobs rough and wet, and when he finally looked up, Jensen smiled at him.  Jared, nose pink and snotty, eyes tear-shine bright.  There were tangled strands of hair plastered to his wet forehead,

"Come on," Jensen said.  He tugged Jared to his feet, steadied him with a hand on the shoulder when he wobbled.

"Where?"

"Let's wash your face," Jensen said and guided Jared towards the door to the basement.

"This is your lab, right?"

"Yes.  The best bathroom is down here."

"Do you…we have to work tonight?  I mean, I will.  I'm just a little tired, is all.  But I can still assist in, whatever. Oh wow."

Wow, indeed.  Jensen was quite proud of the laboratory space he had created.  Everything was gleaming gray, from the clean ceramic tiles to the stainless steel table.  Even the drain in the floor was polished to a shine.

"Jared, stop worrying about doing your job," Jensen admonished, gesturing to a door on the left. "Go in the bathroom and blow your nose."

"Ok."

When he came out, he was listing to the side, eyes at half mast, and Jensen hurried to bolster him up.  Steer him over to the table in the center of the room.  Jared was tall enough that a gentle push was all it took to have him up on the table and sliding down onto his side, head hitting the smooth steel surface with a small thunk.

"Wha?"

"Rest," Jensen said, smoothing back the hair from Jared's brow.  Flicker of alarm, fear, in those bright eyes, and then Jared was out, eyes drifting shut and mouth falling open.

At last.

With a grunt, Jensen lifted those long, dangling legs and arranged them onto the table.  True, as he'd known from the start, Jared wasn't his usual type, and not just because the boy had a good mind. Smaller, more compact adults are easier to lift and maneuver.  Still.

He was one impressive specimen.

Using surgical shears, Jensen cut away Jared's ugly suit, his shirt that was threadbare at the elbows, the frayed underwear.  He pulled off Jared's socks and shoes, bundled it all up.  It would go into the incinerator later.

Everything did, in the end.

Humming, Jensen laid out his tools.  Each scalpel was immaculate, cushioned on sterile cloth.  Beautiful.  Despite his assurances to Jared, Jensen might want to get to work tonight after all.

But for now, Jensen took a moment to admire the nude form before him.  Miles of tanned skin, muscles making pleasing lines beneath their sleek covering.  He reached out a hand and ran it over one of Jared's feet, tracing those fine bones, eyes following the lines of blue veins swirling along, rich rivers just under the skin.

Like looking at Michelangelo's David.  Every inch a carved work of art.  A gorgeous form, already chipped out of marble, but still calling out for refinement.

Jensen couldn't wait to dig his chisel in.

 

**Author's Note:**

> You mad, bro? 
> 
> Bonus revenge art/alternative ending art can be found here: http://eprimacol.livejournal.com/2605.html
> 
> Yes, more lovely, lovely art. I'm spoiled like that. :)


End file.
